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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28645881">Strike first, strike hard (right into my heart)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowJeff/pseuds/RainbowJeff'>RainbowJeff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Owl House (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amity gay as shit, Angst, Based on Karate Kid and Cobra Kai series, Beta Versions, Drinking, F/F, Hey guess what!, Hurt/Comfort, No one dies!, Smoking, Violence, What a novel idea!, but what's new, for Luz, karate au, no beta we die like men, still don't know how to tag, you don't need to know either to understand the fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:13:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28645881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowJeff/pseuds/RainbowJeff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Luz is new to LA from small town Bonesborough, a troublemaker with hot head and a tendency to run her mouth. On her first evening in LA, she gets into a fight with Boscha and her gang, ending up knocked out on the sidewalk. Con-woman and new neighbor with a mysterious past, Eda, offers to teach her karate. Luz accepts. </p><p>All the while, there's something going on between her and Cobra Kai's star student... </p><p> </p><p>Or</p><p> </p><p>The Karate Kid/Cobra Kai AU that absolutely no one asked for, with gay tension.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amity Blight/Luz Noceda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This whole thing gets so much better if you imagine Luz with a slight country accent-</p><p>Watch me try to write this entire thing in two weeks and fail miserably, and in turn push back Angel AU because homegirl thought it would be a good idea to write another series.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Luz’s POV</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, this place is a shit hole.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mija, cuida tu lenguaje!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz doesn’t respond, staring at the swimming pool half-filled with water, empty chip bags and candy wrappers floating on the surface. The corner of her lip curls in disgust at the sight. As the two of them continue on their way up to the new apartment, her foot hits an empty Coors bottle, glass clinking against the concrete.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tries to hold back a scoff, for her mother’s sake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s close to the hospital, and the rent is cheap.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their apartment is up on the second floor, with a lovely view of the filthy pool. Guess she won’t ever be going swimming here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz hears the clinking of keys against the door, and then it swings open, hitting the wall behind it. Both Camila and her cringe at the noise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Remind me to get a doorstop later.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The moving van has already come, leaving the tiny living room and kitchen filled with cardboard boxes. The only things not in boxes is the furniture; their beat up leather sofa, coffee and kitchen tables, plus their dining room chairs. She sighs at the mess, just wanting to curl up on the couch and take a nap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course, the sofa is covered with more boxes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cracking paint covers the walls, an ugly shade of white compared to their homey red back in Bonesborough. Not for the first time, Luz aches for their old house in the country, with its open windows and clean air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You want to start on this now, or in the morning?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now, or this’ll never get done, mija.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She lets out another heavy sigh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you have a box cutter?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Camila roots around in her purse, miraculously pulling out two box cutters. She gives Luz a cheeky smile, passing one to her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Always come prepared.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A tiny groan escapes her lips as she grabs for the nearest box.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, Mami, I know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two of them start on the pile, slicing open cardboard and pulling out various things. The moving company did a shit job of labeling things, so each new box is a surprise. But, with every familiar thing that they pull out, the dull apartment seems a bit more like home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> It’s a poor substitute. This place will never be Bonesborough.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not that Luz has particularly fond memories of the small town.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was born there, grew up there, learned how to ride a skateboard there, got slushies with her mom at the local gas station there. Got bullied for being weird. Smoked her first cigarette in that corn field, with the other social rejects, who were trying too hard to be fuckups. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz, on the other hand, was genuine, USDA certified, grade-A fuckup. She was smart, or she used to be, before realizing that trying in school only got you shoved into lockers. She’d stopped after freshman year.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seventeen, and Bonesborough’s biggest fuckup. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Now, probably soon to be Reseda’s biggest fuckup. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t have friends. She wasn’t good with people. Pre-teen social awkwardness turned into a “leave me the hell alone attitude”. She was a loner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And, that was just fine with Luz. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then out of the blue, this big hospital in LA offers her mom a job, and the next thing she knows, they’re packing up everything. Clothes and knick-knacks get shoved in boxes, furniture loaded into the back of a moving van, and then… nothing. An empty house where Luz once lived.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “This is an opportunity, corazón!” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “We can start over.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Por favor, Luz.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She won’t miss Bonesborough… but it was the only thing that she knew.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s still nobody, but she’s now a nobody in LA.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her fingers ache from rubbing against the cardboard, and the Spanish radio station her mom likes is playing softly in the background, some sappy love song crooning out of the cheap speakers. Luz sets down the box cutter, glancing up to the clock on the microwave. The neon numbers read <b>6:23</b>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She stretches her arms over her head, hearing the satisfying crackle of her spine straightening out. She stands, surprised to find the majority of the boxes empty, all broken down and tossed into a corner. Camila wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mija, can you take this trash to the dumpster?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz nods, grabbing the cardboard scraps and piling them into a more manageable stack. Shouldering it, she steps out the front door, taking a breath of the humid summer air. Even the air is different here, it tastes dirty in her mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Streetlights have turned on, bathing the place in a sort of dingy orange glow. It’s not a flattering light, and it paints the apartment complex as even more run down than it is in the daytime. The weight of the cardboard presses uncomfortably into her shoulder, reminding Luz to keep walking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Descending the stairs and rounding the corner, she finds the dumpster, plus a woman drinking beer next to it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz gives her an awkward half-wave, and the woman merely glances at her over the bottle. She dumps the cardboard, and studies the woman out of the corner of her eye.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s wearing a red dress, almost like a hooker, with a leather jacket slung over the shoulders. Orange-red hair poofs up almost like a mane, falling to the middle of the woman’s back, though it looks well kept. Long, painted nails that end in points drum against the beer bottle. The woman catches her looking, and gives Luz a crooked grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A golden canine catches in the light.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatcha staring at, new kid?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She coughs once, fully turning towards her. Luz’s eyes glance down, noting for the first time the Coors label on her bottle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just noticing that the beer bottles lyin’ around this place look the same as the one in your hand.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woman just stares at her for a second, before erupting into laughter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Man, someone’s got an attitude!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And, that dress makes you look like a hooker.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She only laughs harder, pretending to wipe tears from her eyes. The woman finally straightens up, giving Luz a one over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And that flannel makes you look like a lesbian.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz crosses her arms across her chest self-consciously, letting a small frown cross her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bisexual.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woman notices her body language and holds up her hands, as if in mock surrender.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please kid, I’m not homophobic. Believe me, I’ve slept with my fair share of women.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She grimaces.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Didn’t need to know that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With barely a second thought, the woman holds a hand out to Luz, who only hesitates for a second before taking it. Though the woman’s hand looks boney, she has an iron strong grip. It actually hurts a little.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m Eda.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Luz. Luz Noceda.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nice to meet you, kid.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She nods, giving Eda a small smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just throw that bottle in the trash. My mom’s a stickler about litterin’, and it’s rubbed off on me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woman just chuckles, light catching on her golden canine again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You and I’ll get along just fine, but I do what I want with my trash.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz is walking along the sidewalk, playing that old kids game where she tries not to step on any cracks. A difficult feat, considering that the sidewalks in this part of town are really torn up. It’s stupid, but once she started, she can’t stop now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her mother sent her out to pick up some pizza from the mini-mart around the street, and a couple of snacks to fill their empty refrigerator. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s a couple of bums hanging around the store, smoking blunts, but they don’t give her any trouble. Not that she wouldn’t be able to handle herself. She’s seen plenty of fights, usually ones she’s created, one’s that usually land her in detention.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nevertheless, Luz knows how to throw a punch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The mart is empty, aside from the bored cashier sitting up front, scrolling through his phone. She heads to the back, grabbing a couple of cokes, diet for her mother. It’s quiet in here, familiar. Luz can’t count how many times she’s had to come to a place like this for dinner, and it’s almost comforting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s looking at the chips when the bell chimes open. Glancing up briefly, Luz watches three girls stride into the store, talking too loud.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My god, did you <em> see </em>those guys outside?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They were probably homeless.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, no shit Skara.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“People like that shouldn’t be allowed to hang out around convenience stores.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s Resada, I’m not surprised.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hiding a smirk, Luz turns her eyes away from the trio, returning to the chip rack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Rich perras. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> They even have the goddamn prissy LA accent. I thought that was only in the movies. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She pretends not to pay attention to the girls as she walks up the down the chip aisle, trying to find something good. Her idiotic brain won’t pay attention to finding snacks, and Luz’s eyes keep drifting up, surveying the group. They’re still needlessly talking too loud about nothing, and the cashier looks annoyed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two of them are white, the third looks mixed. They all have dyed hair, one fuchsia pink, one mint green, and the girl with light brown skin has shaved sides and platinum hair. They all wear expensive clothes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz watches people, it’s one of the things she actually does well. It’s something she’s picked up, something she’s needed to survive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And these girls... seem like every other rich kid group that she’s ever met. The one with pink hair is loud mouthed and bitches the most, the one with shaved sides is sweet tempered but not innocent, and the one with green hair is cold and standoffish. Typical, but not dangerous if you leave them alone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She finally forces herself to focus, picking out a family sized bag of Takis and a can of Pringles. As Luz makes her way down the aisle, her eyes flicker up and catch the green-haired girl’s. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Mierda. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Calculating.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That’s the first thing she sees in this girl’s unnaturally golden eyes. The girl stares Luz down, raising one perfect eyebrow at her, eyes reaching into the depths of her soul. They’re like a snake’s, cold and merciless, a warning to stay back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She breaks her gaze, going red with… shame? That doesn’t seem quite right.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I need to get out of here. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Heading towards the cashier, Luz hears the mouthy one fake whisper behind her back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s new in town, isn’t she?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Beats me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Great, just what we need. Another Mexican immigrant.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A very familiar pounding rises behind her temples, and she feels her fists clench. As she walks, Luz forces herself to relax, letting her hands go limp at her sides. She takes a deep breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Nothing you haven’t heard before. </em> <em> <br/></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tosses the chips onto the counter, surveying the wall behind the cashier.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Any chance I could get a pack of Marlboro’s?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He just looks at her, nonplussed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“ID?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz sighs, pulling cash out of her pocket to pay him. He just snorts, ringing up her purchase.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know that shit’ll kill you, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The sooner the better.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She takes the food, preparing to leave. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the pink haired girl grab a couple bottles of Jack Daniels, striding confidently towards the counter and setting them down. Luz feels her feet slow, watching as the girl takes out an obviously fake ID.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Looking at this privileged white girl, smirking with obvious confidence at the cashier, makes her blood boil.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Leave it, Luz. It’s not your business.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, she’s always had a tendency to run her mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She stops by the door, clearing her throat. All of them look at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If he won’t even let me get a pack of cigs, I doubt he’ll let you buy alcohol, no matter how good that ID is. And by the way, I’m Dominican, and I probably speak English better than you, perra.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With that, Luz turns and walks out the door, a grin creeping its way onto her face. She watches through the window as the cashier refuses the pink-haired girl’s ID, and she turns a shade of red bright enough to rival her hair. Luz pops the lid on her Pringles, fishing around for a chip, as the trio storms out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The girl is practically fuming, stopping in front of her. She crunches down on a Pringle, forcing her face to remain neutral.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You bitch. I needed that alcohol for a party tonight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She shrugs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tough luck.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The girl looks like she’s going to swing at her, but the girl with shaved sides, Skara if she’s not mistaken, lays a hand on her arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Leave it alone, Boscha. We’ll go somewhere else.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz sets her food on the sidewalk, crossing her arms and donning a confident smirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? I’m not afraid of a fight. I can take a hit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Shut up, idiot! Do you really want to go home to Mami with a bloody nose on your first day here? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The girl- Boscha- throws Skara’s hand off, clenching her fists and holding them up in a fighting stance. She gives her own smirk, and Luz feels her face fall a slight bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She actually looks like she knows what she’s doing. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m going to make you eat your words.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Luz even has a chance to bring her hands up, Boscha is throwing a right hook at her face, and she can barely duck it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Shit, shit, shit, shit. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s throwing punches of her own, but none of them connect, all blocked by this now <em> very </em>dangerous girl with pink hair. Luz takes a step back, but Boscha doesn’t give her any time to recover, throwing furious but precise punches. Her friends make no attempt to stop the brawl, but don’t get involved in the fighting. Skara has a disapproving frown, and the green-haired girl just seems… bored. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>One of Boscha’s punches lands in her stomach, knocking her wind out and causing Luz to double over. Another too fast move happens, and a foot connects with her jaw. She falls to the ground, face throbbing from the kick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz spits onto the sidewalk, and there’s blood in it, running down the cracks. The taste of copper is heavy, sharp on her tongue. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Boscha squats down next to her, a sneer etched across the girl’s face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Had enough yet?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She spits again, aiming for her face. It falls short.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tu madre es una puta, y tú también lo eres.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luz feels a hard kick to her ribs and she wheezes, curling up in a ball. Her face is tight with pain, and there’s a grimace on her face. Her vision blurs in and out, the street lights above her dissolving into multicolored dots. Through the haze, she manages to cough out a few more words, as if she hasn’t dug a deep enough hole.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Man, you city girls are somethin’ else. They feed you steroids here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She awaits the next kick, but through the pain, Luz watches the green-haired girl lay a hand on Boscha’s shoulder. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s enough. You’ve had your fun.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The girl’s voice is high and clear, but icy cold. It leaves no room for argument, and Boscha relaxes her stance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The three of them turn and walk away, leaving Luz groaning on the sidewalk. As she fades into unconsciousness, she prays that her food doesn’t get stolen. She’s going to need those Pringles when she wakes up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Consciousness greets her with an irate woman tossing a cup of ice water on her face. Luz jolts up, and immediately regrets it, head throbbing with something fierce. Eda stands next to her, leaning against a pole and holding a now empty plastic cup. The woman is also eating her Pringles, and Luz scowls, wincing when the action makes her jaw ache.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eda looks affronted, continuing to eat her chips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is that any way to treat your savior?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She, very slowly, pushes her way up into a sitting position. Everything hurts, her ribs most of all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re eatin’ my food. And, you didn’t save me, you dumped ice on my head.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eda shrugs, still eating her damn Pringles. Luz just sits there, trying to make the ground stop spinning. Eventually, the woman tosses the empty can into the nearby recycling bin, dusting her hands off. Eda turns back towards her, Luz staring at the woman with tired eyes. She studies Luz for a second, tilting her head slightly to the side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have you ever been interested in karate?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“... What?”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:</p><p>Cuida tu lenguaje- watch your language/mouth</p><p>corazón- heart</p><p>perra- bitch</p><p>mierda- shit</p><p>Tu madre es una puta, y tú también lo eres- your mother is whore, and so are you</p><p> </p><p>Luz may legally not be allowed to swear, but Beta Luz certainly isn't 😌</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>mmmmm yes more plot we love to see it</p>
<p>No I have no idea how long this is going to be but 🤷♀️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Of course, her mother has a fit when Luz turns up at the apartment, half carried by Eda, blood drying on the corner of her mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mija! </span>
  <span>Quién te hizo esto? Te dije que tuvieras cuidado!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Camila rushes towards her, cradling Luz’s face in her hands, studying the damage. She’s sure that she has a black eye, her jaw is probably blooming bruises, and her mouth still tastes like copper. Her mother wipes the blood off of Luz’s face with a thumb, staring at her with concern.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mami, I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“First day here and you’re already getting into fights. Dios mío!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Camila scoffs and raises her eyes towards Eda, who’s leaning awkwardly against the door frame. The woman gives a small wave, and her mother rushes forward to hug her. Eda looks started by this little woman suddenly clutching her waist, murmuring various gratitudes in Spanish. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for rescuing my baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz feels herself flush red, burying her face in her hands. Eda merely pats Camila on the back, still confused by the show of affection. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mami…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s no problem, Mrs. Noceda. Happy to help.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She looks up from her hands and shoots the woman a dirty glare, while Eda merely gives her a grin over her mother’s head. Camila finally pulls away, grabbing the bags of snacks and pizza from where they lay abandoned on the steps. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d better grab the first aid kit… and heat up the food…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She walks back into the house, still muttering under her breath, leaving Luz and Eda on the landing. Eda’s eyes follow Camila as she disappears from view, a tiny little smile curling at the corner of her mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mother is a very special woman.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz takes one look at Eda’s expression, and lets out a groan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear, if you start hittin’ on my mom I’m going to smack you over the head with a baseball bat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The woman just runs a hand through her ginger mane, giving her an appraising glance. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you given any thought to my offer?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She scowls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, teachin’ me karate? Good luck with that, especially if you want to get on my mom’s good side. She hates me fighting. Besides, I don’t know how much a woman wearing high heels and a hooker dress can teach me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eda smirks, crossing her arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I could drop you flat on your ass right now, heels or no. But, karate isn’t about fighting, it’s about self defense. You’ve got a temper, but you don’t have any self control. I could teach you to start using that head of yours.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz can’t seem to find anything else to say. This woman is like a car salesman, all honey-smooth voice and sound logic. Eda turns slowly away, spinning her keys on one bony finger, taking her time on the stairs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Think on it, all right? You know where to find me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not until the woman is long gone and Luz back inside that it hits her. She runs back out the door, peering around, yelling into the empty night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I actually don’t, you never told me which apartment you live in!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hexide High School, Home of the Banshees.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She reads the plaque in front of her with a monotone voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, high school.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A government mandated prison system for children, comparable in torture levels to the nine circles of hell.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>School is a waste of time for her. Luz, besides being a fuckup, actually knows what she wants to be when she’s older. An artist. All she needs to do is get through this year, graduate, and maybe go to an art school if any are willing to take her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her mother wants her to be a writer, something she’s also surprisingly good at, but Luz doesn’t think she has the patience to author novels.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Better stick to writing one-shots on Good Witch Azura, a guilty pleasure she’ll take to the grave.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Inside of the school, it’s exactly how Luz expects it to be. Linoleum floors, lockers lining the walls, groups of students standing in clusters, talking and laughing. Hexide is bigger than her old school, sure, but it’s the same old thing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>People watch her pass them with vaguely curious glances, no doubt noticing that she’s new, but no one stops to introduce themselves. Some people’s eyes linger on her black eye, or the yellowing bruises on her jaw, already chalking her up as a troublemaker. After taking a good look, they all turn back to their conversations.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Good.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not here to make friends. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The warning bell rings, and Luz decides to move her ass and actually make it to class on time. She doesn’t need to give her mother any more grief by being late on the first day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her AP Lit. class is easy enough to find, it’s just off the main hallway. Luz steps inside, finding the room already halfway filled with kids taking their seats. She spots a perfect seat, one near the back and by a window, one where she can either zone out or fall asleep without the teacher noticing. Grinning, she makes her way towards the seat, but her teacher holds an arm out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, you must be Miss Noceda? I have assigned seats, so you’ll be in the third row, by the wall.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz barely suppresses the urge to groan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Seriously? Assigned seats?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What are we, fourth graders?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Begrudgingly, she heads towards her new spot, sitting down heavily and slinging her backpack to the floor. More students stream into the classroom, taking their own seats as the tardy bell rings.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She ends up zoning out already, only holding a finger up when her name is called for attendance. The teacher is droning on about class expectations, pulling up the syllabus to read off how different grades are weighted, all the beginning of year crap that they expect you to listen to. Luz half-focuses back in, just in time for the teacher to do some “popcorn reading”.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What a load of bullshit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Park, would you like to read the paragraph on academic dishonesty?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You see Teach, I really would, but I actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking see. My vision is absolute shit and you put me in the back of the classroom. So… you’ll have to call on someone else.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz actually has to contain a chuckle, and she sees other students holding back laughter behind their fists. She turns to look at the girl who spoke, curiosity piqued.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The girl has short hair, almost a pixie cut, dyed so black that it looks blue under the fluorescent lights. She has round, red wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, combat boots, and oddly enough, a yellow trench coat despite the muggy summer heat. It works on her somehow, and the girl seems to know it, giving the teacher a slightly confident smirk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Language, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Miss Park. If it’s needed, I’ll move your seat tomorrow so you can see better. Now, back to the syllabus…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz zones back out, the fun already over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her other morning classes are just as boring, if not more, not having any remotely interesting material. It’s what she expected, first day and all, but it bores her tears. By lunch, she’s already taken three naps, and gotten yelled at in Calculus for doing so.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So, pretty typical day.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just like at her old school, Luz stands in the absurdly long lunch line, waiting for shitty school food that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely </span>
  </em>
  <span>not worth it. By the time she makes it to the front, her stomach is rumbling, and she’d probably eat canned pizza off the floor at this point.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lunch is chicken and mashed potatoes, and it doesn’t look half bad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She grabs a tray, pays, and then begins the quest for an empty table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No such luck. Luz got to the cafeteria too late, and all the tables are filled with groups of students, some saving tables for their friends. She scoffs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I really don’t want to eat in the bathroom, but it’s too hot outside and full in here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A flash of raven-black hair catches her eye, and she watches the girl from her Lit. class sit down at a table with another kid who was holding her spot. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hmm.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz doesn’t do friends. But this girl was ballsy enough to call out the teacher’s shitty seating chart, so she can’t be all that bad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She makes her way towards the pair, sitting down at the seat opposite from them before she can change her mind. Both of them stare at Luz, and she clears her throat before the silence can get awkward. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You callin’ out the teacher like that was pretty funny earlier.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before the girl can say anything, she sticks out her hand, trying to remain cool.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Luz. From your Lit. class, since you’re probably wondering who the hell I am.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There's a pause, and then the girl cracks a grin and shakes her hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Willow Park.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She jabs a thumb at her friend, who shoots Luz a wave. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Augustus Porter, but I call him Gus, or Gussy when he’s pissing me off.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gus reaches across the table to shake her hand, and Luz takes it, while he gives her a small smile. The kid looks surprisingly young, but she can see that he’s tall and gangly even while sitting. He has a mop of dark curls resting on his head, coffee colored skin, and a single golden hoop dangling from his left ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s also a nerd, and knows entirely too much about DnD for his own good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gus frowns, hitting his friend on the shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Way to make me sound like a loser in front of the new kid. This year was supposed to be my chance, man!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>WIllow chuckles, kicking her feet up on the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, Gussy boy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The raven-haired girl looks at Luz curiously, resting her hands on her chin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So… new in town, no friends, and you chose to sit with us? You do realize that you’ve basically sold away any chance at a social life, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz just shrugs, raising a spoonful of mashed potatoes to her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a loner anyhow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gus grins, picking at his chicken.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, we’re loners too! We just decided to be a-loners together, right Willow? Get it? A-loners?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She scoffs, ruffling the boy’s curls to his cries of indignant protest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That was the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard you say. You don’t need me to ruin your reputation, you’re doing that yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz snorts, drawing Willow’s attention back to her. She gives Gus’s hair one last ruffle, then gives Luz an appraising look. She raises an eyebrow at the girl, who points to her eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d you get that shiner?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She touches her eye subconsciously. The skin under it is still tender, and she’s sure it’s not a pretty sight to see. Luz sighs, letting her gaze wander the cafeteria. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes catch on a familiar shade of pink, and she zeros in on the table that somehow seems the center of attention. It’s like the people sitting there are magnets, attracting everything and everyone to look at them. There, the girls from the convenience store sit, talking loudly amongst themselves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to look at them any longer, Luz waves a careless hand towards their table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pink hair.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, Willow smirks, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course Boscha gave you less than a warm welcome. That bitch has probably picked a fight with every damn person in this school by now.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz runs her fingernail down the seam in the table, not saying anything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, don’t take it personally. She likes to pick fights because she’s part of Cobra Kai. Her and her whole gang are. Well, it’s Amity’s gang, really.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At that, she looks up, finding Willow’s eyes fixed on the group.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cobra Kai? And who’s Amity?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The girl turns back to her, letting out a sigh. Luz tilts her head, and Willow continues after a seconds pause.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cobra Kai is a karate dojo in Reseda. Every bully in this school takes lessons from the place, which makes them assholes </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>dangerous. They have this bullshit motto, “Strike first, strike hard, no mercy”, and Boscha and the lot of them take it to heart.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz nods slowly, digesting this new bit of information.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So that's why she kicked my ass so well. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“As for Amity… well…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She turns her head back towards the group, somewhat unwillingly. There she finds the green-haired girl, the quiet one with golden eyes and an ice-cold voice looking at her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See the one with the green hair? That’s Amity. She’s the leader, and she’s deadly. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> go within ten feet of her, or you will find yourself on the floor with a bloody nose.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The green-haired girl, Amity, is still staring at her. It’s not a curious look. The expression on her face is nearly non-existent, completely flat except for the slight narrowing of those golden eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And she’s looking at us… great.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz doesn’t break eye contact, taking a sip of her water, and wiping her lips. Amity quirks the corner of her mouth up ever so slightly, and she finally gets what the girl is doing. It’s a challenge, to test how strong her will is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I don’t break so easily.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Giving the girl an easy grin, Luz shoots her a wink and blows her a kiss. Only then does Luz look away, turning back to her lunch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit! Amity Blight is blushing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blushing! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Willow, do you see this shit?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles into her mashed potatoes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not so tough now, are you?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gus, you’re off your rocker. Ice Queen literally doesn’t have emotions.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what I saw!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz glances up again and back towards the table. Amity isn’t looking at her, just staring at Boscha with a seemingly bored expression, eating her sandwich. The pink-haired girl is laughing, gesturing around wildly while Skara watches her with an amused look on her face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She feels almost… disappointed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Luz, back me up here!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gus is staring at her with a plea in his eyes, while Willow is just rolling her own. She lets a smile rest on her lips, shrugging her shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Told you!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Luz’s opinion doesn’t count, she’s new and clearly psychotic.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:</p>
<p>Quién te hizo esto- Who did this to you</p>
<p>Te dije que tuvieras cuidado- I told you to be careful</p>
<p>Dios mío- My god</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Amity... girl... you're gay we get it </p>
<p>PLeaSe I don't remember the last time I posted a chapter not at 2 am, send help</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Beta Luz absolutely listens to Coldplay, and no one can change my mind. </p>
<p>Annnnddd I've started classes again, so chapter updates won't be as frequent, but I'm aiming for at least two a week. Hopefully</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In her opinion, the summer days last far too long. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sun shouldn't be up this high still, beating down on her neck as she trudges home. Somehow, Luz had managed to land herself in a shit heap of trouble on her very first day, getting stuck in detention. Apparently, cussing out your teachers isn’t tolerable by the Hexide code of conduct, and sends you on a one way trip to the dungeon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t actually a dungeon, but she’d always had a hyperactive imagination. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No amount of blubbering about “first day stress” or “getting used to the new environment” could save her, so now Luz is walking home under the evening sun, sullen as she tries to think of a way to explain this to her mother.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So it’s fine when Willow does it, but not when I do it!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The girl’s probably got blackmail on all her teachers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>… Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz wipes a bead of sweat from her neck, pulling her headphones from her pocket, putting them in and clicking on a random playlist. Music filters through them, but she barely has the focus to listen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All a way of distracting herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She probably wouldn’t have gotten into trouble if it wasn’t for her own temper tantrum. Just by the sake of her horrible luck, Boscha ended up being in her last period class. The pink-haired girl had spotted Luz, a broad and slightly malicious grin stretching across her face, before taking a seat right behind her. She’d leaned forward, almost whispering into Luz’s ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nice bruises. Wish I could see the ones I left on your ribs. Pretty nasty, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clenching her fists until her knuckles turned white, she’d managed to keep her mouth shut, though every bone in her body screamed at her to spin around and punch Boscha in the face. Luz had stayed like that, staring at the wall, feeling the girl’s eyes on the back of her head until the teacher had reprimanded her for not paying attention.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then she’d snapped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t give her any satisfaction, fighting back, getting into detention, because it meant that the pink-haired girl had won. Again. It infuriated Luz to no end, having to sit in the ‘dungeon’ for an extra two hours, spending the time seething instead of reflecting on her actions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Load of crap.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pounding of her head drowned out the music, and she just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. In the distance, a vaguely familiar strip mall loomed, and she felt her stomach rumble. Guess she was getting shitty pizza for dinner again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>To be fair, shitty pizza was her favorite comfort food after coming home late from detention or perhaps a scrap in the parking lot. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz’s pace quickened slightly, abysmal mood improved a bit by the prospect of dinner and a cold soda to soothe the raw, angry shards of glass in her stomach. Who knows, maybe she could get one of those bums outside to buy her a pack of cigarettes. That would really round out her meal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah yeah, the three main food groups; pizza, sugary caffeine in a plastic bottle, and nicotine. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the sun and her oncoming headache, she feels herself crack a smile as the mini-mart comes into view. Luz half-jogged towards the place, feet only faltering when she noticed the large sign on the building next door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On it was a picture of a snake, and underneath were the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cobra Kai Karate, </span>
  </em>
  <span>in large yellow letters. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Almost instantaneously, her appetite vanished.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The broken glass in Luz’s stomach burned, making the smile fall off her face and her hands ball themselves into fists once more. Flickers of the other night flashed through her mind, memories of brutal punches and kicks landing, causing her to double over in agony.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Subconsciously, she rubbed her side, feeling her ribs ache with phantom pains.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The place was empty, but from what she could see, bags and backpacks littered the floor. Frowning, Luz turned away from the windows, gritting her teeth as she walked into the mart. The same guy from before was sitting there, looking up as the door jingled. He seemed to recognize her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Me again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>WIthout another word, Luz grabs a coke from the fridge up front and sets it down roughly on the counter. The cashier looks up in slight surprise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get me a pack of Marlboros.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His surprise quickly fades, raising a thin eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Still haven’t seen an ID.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs, setting both hands on the counter and leaning over in what was hopefully an intimidating manner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen here-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz peered at the crooked name tag on his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-Jerbo, I’ve had a long fuckin’ day, and you didn’t do jack shit to help me when my ass was getting pounded into the pavement the other night, so you </span>
  <em>
    <span>owe </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. Now, hand me a goddamn pack of cigarettes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He gives her a long look, judging how serious she is before letting out a sigh and pulling a pack down from behind him. Jerbo tosses it on the counter, ringing it and the soda up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not kidding, that stuff will kill you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz shoots him a tired glare over her shoulder, not bothering to respond as she steps out the door. She uncaps her soda, guzzling down a good bit of it, relishing how the carbonation burns her throat. Movement from the building next door catches her eyes as she puts the headphones back into her ears. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kids wearing karate uniforms, or whatever the hell they’re called, stream into the main building from a back room. Luz watches as a woman in her mid-forties follows behind them, dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, standing in front of the students as they form lines.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, she can’t help but feel like the woman looks familiar as she calls out instructions that Luz can’t hear. A girl with green hair makes her way to the front, and her heart catches in her throat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not a girl with green hair, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>girl with green hair. Amity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz watches, only slightly transfixed by the power that Amity seems to radiate as she punches into the space in front of her with obvious ease, the rest of the students following her lead. Pulling her lighter from the secret pocket in her backpack, Luz tugs a cigarette out, setting it between her lips as she holds the flame to it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Smoke clouds the scene in front of her, and she finally catches a few lyrics of the song that’s playing in her ears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Life goes on, it gets so heavy</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The wheel breaks the butterfly, every tear a waterfall</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In the night the stormy night she'll close her eyes</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In the night the stormy night away she'd fly</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And dream of para-para-paradise</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luz smirks without humor as she sucks smoke into her lungs, noting the wonderful timing that Coldplay’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Paradise </span>
  </em>
  <span>has. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Reseda is about the opposite of paradise as you could get. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything about this moment; the song, the heat, the dryness in her throat, the nicotine starting to buzz in her veins, the way Amity fucking Blight demonstrates perfect punches like some warrior princess, it all just rubs Luz in a way that makes her stomach churn.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her feet stay stubbornly rooted to the ground as her cigarette slowly burns to the butt, and the song has long since changed, but Luz can’t bring herself to move. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She flicks ash from the tip, and just for a moment, she swears that Amity’s golden eyes flicker towards hers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, Luz was snapped out of the daze by the sound of her phone ringing, and she grimaces when she sees who the call is from. Almost immediately, Camila starts yelling at her in rapid fire Spanish, and it takes a couple of minutes before she can even get a word in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to face her mother’s disappointment, she lies, saying that she was at the library and lost track of time. Thankfully, Camila buys it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Letting out a heavy sigh, Luz grinds the now burnt-out cigarette out under her heel, tearing her eyes from the karate dojo and slowly walking back home. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her thoughts space out again, and before she knows it, she finds herself in front of the apartment complex. Almost unsurprisingly, she finds Eda leaning against her door, a pointed look on her face. The woman raises an eyebrow as Luz approaches. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re late. And you smell like cigarette smoke.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She scoffs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you care?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eda merely folds her arms. The woman is still wearing that leather jacket, despite the heat, though is now dressed more practically in jeans and tennis shoes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’m not going to train you if you insist on smoking. It messes up your wind.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her frown only deepens at the slightly condescending look on Eda’s face. The stress of the day isn’t doing her temper any favors, and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping out curses at the woman.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“First off, I never agreed to learn karate from you. Actually, I’m gettin’ pretty sick of karate. Secondly, I’m late enough as it is, and Mami is expecting me back by now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eda holds up a hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Actually, </span>
  </em>
  <span>kid, I just talked with your mother, and she happens to agree with me that you need to learn self-defense. She seems to think me a “reasonable and responsible” choice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luz pretends to gag at that, while the woman grins. Her smile is infectious, and she’s having a hard time staying mad at Eda. Perhaps she’s already exhausted her temper for the day. Or, perhaps she’s just plain old exhausted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, yes or no?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t really have the energy to fight anymore, and Luz finds herself nodding.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh well, here goes nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, the prospect of not getting herself roundhouse kicked in the side anymore sounds tempting, anyhow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I please take a nap now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope! I’ve got a very important lesson planned for tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She groans. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Beta Luz: uwu smoking sexy and badass</p>
<p>Eda: no</p>
<p>Camila: no</p>
<p>the fandom: yes... but no </p>
<p>Beta Amity: wait hold on, she's got a point</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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